


Fire of My Loins

by seb



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Accidental Exhibitionism, Blowjobs, Country Club Shenanigans, Improper Alcohol Drinking, M/M, Porn With Plot, Pre-Established Relationship, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seb/pseuds/seb
Summary: For the prompt "Bro/Grandpa where they go to a country club and Bro doesn't know shit about fuck."And then I made it sexual. Sue me.





	Fire of My Loins

**Author's Note:**

> Look up the car Gpa drives, I did so much research on that shitting thing. And country clubs. And this was supposed to be a drabble, god damn it, why do I always do this.

The country club glows as the sun sets, warm peachy lights illuminating the cobbled path leading up to the building. There’s a brick chimney, smoke billowing out into the sky. A Volkswagen Karmann Ghia pulls into a reserved parking spot near the front, nearing the sidewalk.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, this is sweet,” Bro mutters, face pressed to the window.

Harley swats at Bro’s shoulder. “Strider, please, I asked you so nicely not to smudge my windows.”

“Do you see this?” Bro says, finger pressed to the glass. “We’ve been seeing each other for how long and you’re just showing me your fucking mansion? Shit, dude.”

“Ambrose,” Harley says, stern, and Bro backs away from the window obediently. “Thank you. This is the country club I attend,” he continues, shutting off the engine to the car and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe down the steering wheel idly. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I don’t _own_  it.”

“Sure,” Bro says, obviously not paying attention. Harley would sigh, but he’s too enamored. Bro is enjoying himself already and they haven’t even entered the establishment yet!

“Remember, Strider,” Harley says, leaning over to open the door for Bro before opening his own, “these are esteemed older men who aren’t used to you like I am, so—”

“Keep it clean,” Bro interrupts, pushing the door open with his foot. Harley does sigh this time. “Got it, Grandpa.”

Harley is… starting to have second thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. What if Bro doesn’t like much other than the exterior aesthetic? Regardless, he carefully shuts the door before making his way to Bro’s side, admiring his awestruck expression. It really is beautiful, isn’t it? The stone stacked high, coupled with dark wood beams and roofing, the outside seating and lighting making it look so warm and welcoming. They walk up the path together, and to Harley’s surprise, Bro’s quiet. Not even any last minute bullshit questions.

The door opens and Harley’s greeted by an old friend who also happens to be security. He looks surprised at Harley’s company, but says nothing about it, beckoning them into the building. Harley smacks a hand on his shoulder in greeting, mustache bushing together as he smiles wide. Bro… also smacks the man on the shoulder, following it with a half-salute and a “‘Sup.” Right. Third thoughts.

Harley would loop an arm through Bro’s, but he’d endure _too_  much teasing from his peers, so he refrains. Instead, he pulls him close by the waist, hooking a thumb in his back pocket before dropping it completely. Bro, as he is, slaps Harley’s ass in the middle of the hallway. Thank heavens it’s before they’ve entered the main room.

The room is large, a couch set in front of a TV on their right, a bar lined with men sitting on barstools on their left. Further into the room are pool tables and other seating, with a doorway leading to a dinner buffet, and another leading to the saunas. Beyond, there’s even more, but Bro already looks overwhelmed and excited.

“Holy shit,” Bro says, the articulate man, he is. He nudges Harley’s arm with his hand before pointing at the bar. “Drinks,” he states, as if it’s a grand conclusion, and drags him over.

“The usual?” Harley’s good friend asks from behind the bar. He nods, taking a seat, and Bro follows suit next to him. 

“And a scotch on the rocks for my good man,” Harley says, placing a hand on Bro’s shoulder. He nods, and the bartender gets to work on their drinks. Bro watches wonderstruck at the smooth wooden counters, shelves on shelves of age-old alcohol. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

“This shit’s older than _you_ ,” Bro says. Harley swats his arm.

“That’s _not_  nice and proper, Ambrose,” Harley snaps.

The bartender laughs as he sets their drinks down in front of them. Harley thanks him profusely and slips him a ten dollar bill. Bro picks up his drink and presses the rim to his lips, smirking as he mutters into his cup. “Sugar daddy.”

Harley splutters, but before he can say anything, Bro knocks back the glass, taking the scotch like a shot. Harley smacks his hand to his cheek and slowly swipes down as Bro grimaces, bringing the glass back to the counter.

“Shit’s strong,” Bro frowns.

“ _Strider_ ,” Harley exclaims, hush quiet.

Bro looks at him, disgruntled, as if it’s _Harley's_  fault he’s in what is probably immense pain right now.

“Unbelievable,” Harley continues, swirling his drink around in the cup before taking a sip. The bartender puts a tall glass of ginger ale in front of Bro without a word. He follows Harley, taking small sips of it to settle his fiery nerves.

They sit in silence mostly, Bro hooking his foot around Harley’s ankle, and the latter swinging his leg gently. Bro pretends to put his hand on the counter for no good reason, and Harley pretends to drop his directly on top. There’s no need for words to be shared; their bodies say enough, their moods intertwining, hearts and souls linked to create calm and contentedness.

That is, until Bro leans in to get Harley’s attention. Harley takes a good sip of his whiskey before leaning forward to hear what he has to say.

“Fuck me over the pool table in the back.”

Harley chokes. He chokes and coughs and nearly hacks up a lung, beating a fist to his chest desperately. Bro just smiles and takes a swig of his drink, yanking Harley’s leg in close to him.

“Sorry,” Bro says aloud, rubbing Harley’s back faux-comfortingly. “I didn’t think an invitation to the sauna would startle you so much.”

“ _Fiend,_ ” Harley chokes out, rubbing his aching chest. “You’re a fiend and a menace.”

“But you love me anyway,” Bro coos, sneaking a kiss to Harley’s shoulder. “Right?”

Harley presses his hand to the edge of the counter and pushes hard, barstool screeching across the floor as he stands up. He pulls his foot away from Bro’s and knocks the rest of his drink back before holding a hand out. He musters the cheesiest grin he can. “Shall we?”

Bro blinks, hopping out of his chair and pushing his drink back, unfinished. He’s quiet and obedient, and Harley is glad he knows where his place is.

They make their way across the room, weaving between people and pool tables, to the saunas. Multiple, because Harley is loaded and goes to the fanciest country club he can. Multiple, to Harley’s relief, so they can be alone. They undress in something similar to a locker room but admittedly much nicer, and Harley stores their clothing— every garment— in his own personal locker, taking out his embroidered towels to wrap around their waists. 

“Jesus Christ,” Bro says, fingering the lettering on the corner before tucking it into a fold.

“I’m a long-time member,” Harley says, and leaves it at that.

Harley opens the door for Bro likes a gentleman, flipping the sign on the handle to the side that reads _Out of Use: Cleaning_  before closing it behind them. Bro is sitting down already by the time Harley has shut the door entirely and walked in. His legs are spread enticingly, eyebrow raised as he pats the heated wood next to him. Harley sits down on the other side of him, just so they know who’s in charge here. He grins at himself, proud.

“You were in a rush to get in here,” Bro smirks, putting an arm around Harley’s shoulders. “What, you want to see me naked that bad?”

“Actually,” Harley says, throwing a spare towel on the ground at his feet. He spreads his legs much like Bro’s, patting Bro’s thigh as he smiles politely. “I want to see you on your knees.”

Bro blinks slowly before nodding his head, maneuvering his body quickly and silently onto the floor in front of Harley. His knees are cushioned by the towel, his elbows resting on Harley’s knees. Just the sight makes Harley’s dick twitch, interest piqued at the situation at hand. Or, at foot, rather.

This is happening. Harley is already sweating from the heat, but seeing the blushing man beneath his legs is making him even hotter under the collar. He untucks the corner of his towel, peeling it back to expose his quickly hardening length. Bro, eyes uncovered, shamelessly drinks the sight in, hands coming to rest on Harley’s hips in anticipation. 

“That’s a good boy,” Harley says, and Bro’s eyes shut as he sucks in a breath. They flutter back open a moment later, but not before Harley is petting softly through Bro’s hair. “Now give me your towel.”

He leans in more, totally unnecessarily, in order to get further up on his knees and pull the towel out from around and under him to hand to Harley. The older man takes it, placing it across the wood behind him and giving Bro one last pet. “And get to work,” he says, voice gravelly and strong, as he leans back and spreads his arms over the towel behind him.

Bro nods enthusiastically, shuddering even in the heat of the room as he pulls the towel around Harley’s hips down further to kiss and suck at his thighs. Harley leans his head back as Bro continues to his crotch, taking his length in hand and kissing from the base to the tip like the tease he is.

“Ambrose,” Harley says, stern. Bro obliges him, tucking the head of Harley’s cock into his mouth, his tongue curling to push back his foreskin and suck. Harley groans, shifting his hips to encourage Bro to take him in. Bro nods, pushing forward and taking more of Harley’s dick into his mouth. His tongue pushes along the underside, drool pooling at the corner of his lips as he slides down then smoothly back up. 

“Mmh,” Bro hums, sending shocks of arousal up Harley’s spine. He shakes, bringing a hand down to rest on Bro’s head. He cards through his hair gently and Bro brings his mouth down further, spit easing the slide. He takes him into his throat a little too eagerly, gagging, throat constricting around Harley’s length and lips spasming around him. 

“Now, now,” Harley says, grabbing Bro by the hair and pulling him off his dick. Bro moans outwardly at that, arching up into the touch and subsequently tightening his grip on Harley’s dick and hip. His dick twitches between his legs, jerking to slap his stomach audibly. “You’re quite worked up, aren’t you?” Harley asks. Bro nods, shifting restlessly between Harley’s thighs. He licks his lips, blinking up at Harley entreatingly. 

“Take it slow,” Harley says, roughly bringing Bro’s face back to his dick. Bro’s jaw drops, a pleasure-pained sound dripping from his lips. Harley takes advantage of this, totally throwing his own order out the window as he maneuvers Bro’s mouth to fit over the head of his dick. Bro regains composure easily, eyes falling closed as he gets back to work, this time working his way down slowly as he sucks, a slow, hot build of heat in Harley’s gut.

Minutes pass, Bro working down farther and farther until he’s completely deepthroating Harley, tamping down his reflex to settle into the warmth, running his hands over Harley’s thighs as he sucks languidly. Harley thrusts half-heartedly into his mouth, hands still twined in Bro’s hair. His towel has fallen open, mostly, but Harley can’t find it in him to care.

Which is the perfect time for the door to open.

A janitor shimmies into the sauna, and Harley, well. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and he comes, horrified, as he pulls Bro farther down his shaft. Bro takes it in stride, opening his eyes just to wink as he swallows and throws an OK sign up behind his back. 

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christofer,” Harley exclaims, yanking his towel over his crotch— and Bro, consequently. Bro pulls off of him, taking Harley’s softening dick in hand and licking the remainder of his come off.

“I’ve got the clean-up,” Bro says, voice rough and deep as he waves the janitor away. The latter nearly _runs_  out of the sauna, slamming the door shut behind him.

“ _Strider,_ ” Harley says, flabbergasted as he grabs him by the elbows and pulls up. Bro follows, grinning all the way, and sits astride Harley’s thighs. 

“That was below the waist, “ Bro snarks, stretching his arms behind is back. “He better come back so I can slap his neck.”

Harley is having _none_  of this, pushing Bro down by the shoulders and hoisting his legs up over his lap. Bro gasps, scrambling to press his forearms to the wood and press his forehead against them. Harley gives him no reprieve, bringing his hand down hard and harsh against his ass. Bro yelps, driving his forehead into the bend of his elbow. He bites his lip, knowing that any more noise will make his punishment worse. 

“That was _brave_  of you,” Harley says, smoothing his hand over Bro’s apple-red ass. He leans down to bite at Bro’s spine, bringing his hand down once more over his other cheek. Bro grunts, hips jerking, bringing his dick down to rub against Harley’s thigh. He takes in a sharp breath, finding it harder and harder to breathe in the steamed room.

“Harley,” Bro slurs, pushing his ass out and arching his back. “Please.”

Harley shushes him with another slap to his ass but fails, as Bro moans into his skin, panting.

“Harls,” Bro pleads.

“Come now or not at all,” Harley demands, smoothing his hand over Bro’s asscheeks, thumb dipping to press against his hole teasingly.

Bro lets out a strained groan as he follows orders and bucks his hips, willing himself to come. His dick slides against Harley’s thigh as his orgasm takes him, shooting over the wooden seat. He shakes, overwhelmed, breathing heavy. Harley rubs his ass soothingly all the way through, holding his hips up and petting up and down his back. Once it’s over, Bro slumps completely into Harley’s hold, drained. 

“Jake,” Bro croaks, gasping in a breath.

Harley blinks, startled by the sound of his own name. Only then does he realize Bro… may be having a bit of trouble. He quickly grabs the towel his arms were previously resting on, wrapping it around Bro’s hips loosely and securing his own. He sets Bro’s legs to the side before standing and follows up soon after by picking him up by the arms, guiding him to the door and nudging it open with his foot.

Thankfully the pools are empty… Harley’s luck is _outrageous_  today. Mostly. He strips them of their towels once more and lowers Bro onto the steps. His breathing starts to even and he shivers, dipping deeper into the water and closer to Harley. The latter takes Bro into his arms and leans against the side of the pool, rubbing his back.

“Harls,” Bro says, and Harley kisses his head in response.

“What can I do for you, fine fellow?”

“You still haven’t fucked me.”

Harley chokes out a laugh, dipping his hand below Bro’s waist to grab his sore ass. Bro hisses, rubbing his face in Harley’s chest. “You’re insatiable, Strider.”

“Mmm,” Bro hums, kissing Harley’s chest. 

They stay until Bro complains about his dick freezing off, then quickly get dressed to avoid the eyes of any of Harley’s country club members. They leave out the back, Harley too embarrassed to face anyone for the rest of the night. He opens Bro’s door like a gentleman, to which Bro slaps his ass and falls right in before yelping at the sting. 

“It’s what you deserve,” Harley states, closing the door behind him.

Bro snorts as soon as Harley gets in the car, and Harley snorts right back because of _course_  that dork waited until Harley was in the car to respond with a disgruntled noise.

Bro pretends to rest his arm on the middle console, and Harley blatantly grabs it after he backs out of his spot, twining their fingers together and holding on tight as they make their way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
